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Monday, January 31, 2011

Since last week was all about the Slender Man, now's as good a time as any to mention that I write in advance as far as I possibly can. You know, just in case I get abducted by Candlejack or somethi

All joking aside, this entry was written Thursday of two weeks ago.

Hello, future me! Have you been abducted yet?

Probably not.

In the daylight hours, I find it easier to ignore, disregard, and disbelieve in lines of fantastic reasoning. I prefer to think rationally in situations that require logic.

Other admissions, given the post title here's as good a place as any for them:

I actually identify as Asexual IRL. I don't know if it ever came up, or became particularly obvious. It's more apparent IRL than online, in my opinion: I have spent my entire life immersed in a sex-driven culture, and have absorbed the vernacular. Besides that, I tend toward apathy. It's fairly hard to showcase a lack of something. Probably the most obvious clue is how utterly oblivious I am toward being hit on (a trait that accidentally transfers to my characters in RP, since I don't even notice). I have to be pretty much hit over the head with a shovel to recognize a compliment.

Speaking of apathy and lifestyle choices, I tend to label myself agnostic. I am the exact opposite of a religious fanatic of any stripe: I actually don't care enough. Religion is one of those things that is almost impossible to prove, and without proof, I can't really care too much which invisible, omniscient, omnipresent entity I "should" be trying to appease - and how would I actually know, anyway?

That said, I wear a pentagram, not a cross. Of all the mystical, metaphysical babble I've bothered to expose myself to, Wicca is probably the most empowering and female-positive.

Friday, January 28, 2011

I'm actually considering, with the sheer volume of writing I'm doing right now, to change it back to at least M-F, every day.

Ah well, who knows anyway. ON WITH THE POST!

Paranoid
Freewrite! See you. Rar tentacles!

I have something on my mind, is it obvious?

You know, I really don't think the whole Slenderman thing is/is not real. Skepticism is extant but still causes paranoia. Go figure. Very suggestible with an already-present tendency toward obsessive thought. lolol.

Scars on an eye eyePhone water Out of
may not cause How is damage warranty
blindness, just time found to be _
(less complete) to blargh and killing | \ ET
vision loss. POAST? phone |_/ AH
smrtfone. OMG(s?)
People How is money supplied by presumably jobless people
Pinatas 4 more for food and sufficient gas to continue running? MY WHOLE MEAL COST
personable $20! FIFTEEEN CENTS
portrayals Snow is very wet If Slendy
and also snowy and in addition cold. turned up it would FAIL
Blarghing be INSTANT hypothermia
in tha death. So cold.
rainz, SO IF YOU GET OBSESSED
'm blargh WITH (SLENDERMAN) AND THEN YOU
ing LOSE SLEEP AND Achoo!
in tha THEN YOU HAVE A
rain DIMINISHED IMMUNE SYSTEM COUGH
IS IT PARANOIA, SLENDY-SICKNESS, OF
OR ABJECT STUPIDITY WHEN YOU DEATH
CATCH A COLD?

Sure, he/it/they can bend reality around one slender appendage or another, but given how widely spread his/its/their activities are becoming, as well as the variance in his/its/their behavior between blogs, vlogs, etc., it's not unreasonable to suggest there might be more than one of these abominations wandering about. This can also explain differences in Slendy's stated abilities. Hell, H(a)unting all-but states it outright.

Alternatively, there is just one Slender Man, and he's just messing with us.

Most depictions are downright malevolent, though.

It's like Cthulhu or a feral, man-eating lion or something. Killing people and abducting kids seems to be more or less what Slendy does. The vlogs and blogs from people who survive seem to be as much about Slendy observing them as the other way around - it's like he/it/they is/are just too alien to call him/it/them "evil" - who says he/it/they ascribe to anymorality, much less a human-centric one? Which isn't to say he/it/they are harmless, or that sane people with any regard whatsoever for their own wellbeing should seek him/it/them out: see also feral, man-eating lion.

Incidentally, I don't know if this ever came up, but I write in a notebook before posting. I've always had a habit of decorating the margins, but now in addition to the random eyeballs and emoticons I normally doodle, I'm making notes of relevant Tropes and sketching Slender Men and Operator symbols.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Even if the Slender Man were to turn up, I'd never know it: I get sick a lot anyway, it is balls cold up here all the time in the winter, and I tend to avoid cameras of any shape, size, or description (I'm not precisely proud of my appearance).

I'm also a veryboring person in real life. Seriously. I go to work, I come home, I play World of Warcraft, and sometimes I watch movies and listen to music. I'd probably bore the hell out of any real-life stalker, supernatural or not.

Friday, January 21, 2011

I remember one time when I was a young child, I was leaving a friend's house in the winter. It was cold, and it was snowing. I slid off their porch and fell into a snowbank, bare-handed. I remember I was screaming and crying because of how much it hurt, and how cold I was.

And how alone.

I learned later that my friend's parents forced him not to come out and check on me, but at the time I had no idea what was wrong.

I just walked home.

Alone.

I bring this up, because my hands hurt right now, like they always do when I get too cold.

The temperature outside is literally 0° Farenheit. I have two pairs of gloves on and my car's heater is running, but the pain in my fingertips remains intense. It is a serious distraction from driving, so despite the fact that the roads are clearer, I feel just as unsafe. This isn't helped by the fact that all the snow that fell yesterday is now blowing across the highway in visible streams of wind.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

It is 7:45 when I leave my house, snow shovel in hand, to greet the day. It isn't actually that cold, but the snow has been falling continuously since last night. Mom is helping me dig out both of our cars.

Speed is of the essence: we both have to get to work this morning. On the radio, I heard that all the area schools have shut down for the day, but that hardly matters to our employers - or our wallets. Our street has not bee plowed, so Mom warns me that I should just take it slow. Going too quickly is an easy guarantee that something will go wrong.

I should have listened.

I can feel myself losing control before it happens, first a little, then a lot. I end up sideways across both lanes of traffic over a small curve in the road, and I felt my tail end plow sideways through a snowbank.

I am lucky; I am still on the road, and I did not hit anyone. I get myself straightened out before someone hits me.

"I can see the road."

It has become my Survival Mantra and a happy lie. I can see two strips of pavement where others have come before me - until I find myself following a vague black shape. It kicks up a cloud of snow so thick I cannot see the road - or anything else, for that matter.

It is a tense drive. The road wasn't especially well-maintained, and my job is actually in the next town over.

It is an incredible relief to see buildings again, and I find myself laughing when I see on a bank sign how early I am.

When I finally get myself parked, I call Mom to let her know I'm okay.

I have no idea how I'm going to get home: the sun will be down before I am allowed to leave.

Monday, January 17, 2011

So, I live in a fairly rural midwestern area of the United States. This is important, because AT&T does not really offer excellent coverage in the midwest, in my personal opinion, and there is no 3G AT&T network at all in my area - yet, anyway.

Now, personally, I have always been a little bit too unemployed (read: poor) to afford either Verizon or AT&T's prices. I personally use a nice little LG phone from Virgin Mobile, which gives me reasonably good coverage at $25/month for unlimited texting and data, as well as 300 voice minutes. No rollover, but given that I never speak on my phone, who cares?

Verizon is getting the iPhone 4 in February. The prices are relatively similar to AT&T's, only I've always personally disagreed with capping data usage, especially for phones like the iPhone, which is less accurately described as a "phone" and more accurately described as a small computer that also has phone capabilities.

Who knows.

I might just have to eat the four-times-as-expensive monthly bill, not to mention the cost of the phone itself.

White starts with the normal selection of pieces, and goes first always.

You will want surplus pawns of both colors.

Goals

The goal of the black player is to eliminate all white pieces from the playing field, while the goal of the white player is to prevent the black queen from being able to move (I'm not sure this is actually possible and would require playtesting, which I don't have the patience to attempt I think this might actually be only possible if you fill up the entire board a la Reversi with the amended pawn rules).

This game is played with a standard chess board, (with as many pawns of either color as necessary: use pennies or something if you run out of pawns) and all rules not explicitly outlined here are borrowed directly from Chess (the, uh, non-Slendyful version).

The game does not end if the king is captured; black does not even start with a king.

The black queen (and only the black queen) can, at any time, teleport to any location on the playing field not currently under attack by a white piece (Slendy cannot move into check; it's called Offscreen Teleportation for a reason.) However, the black queen is not required to move out of check, and is allowed to capture white pieces that are not currently in a place that would otherwise be under attack.

When the black player takes a piece, remove the white piece from the playing field and replace it with a corresponding black piece (exceptions noted below), then move the new black piece to a new location of the black player's choosing that is not currently occupied.

When the white player takes a piece, remove the black piece from the playing field and replace it with a corresponding white piece (exceptions noted below), then move the new white piece to a new location of the white player's choosing that is not currently occupied.

If the black queen is captured, do not replace it with a white queen, but instead move it back to its starting point, instantly capturing any white piece occupying that space. Any black piece occupying that space will move instantly to a place of the black player's choosing.

Since the white player can't regenerate the white queen via normal methods, if the white queen is captured, instead replace it with a black pawn. The white queen can only be regenerated by a white pawn making it to the other end of the playing field. This feat can only be performed if the white queen is no longer on the playing field.

Soooo ... what do you think? I think it sounds like it might be amusing anyway - a cross between Chess and Reversi with a dash of Cosmic Horror. Feel free to adopt it and apply your own house rules!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

I slept with my light on last night, and it kept me awake a bit - but I couldn't have gotten to sleep at all without it.

This morning, I am thoroughly exhausted. I kept drifting off, only to jerk awake long enough to make sure I was really alone in my room, seriously. I remember groaning because I saw the alarm clock at 4am.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

I've sorted out that the creature can learn to buff itself, it's just stupid - I ended up spending half an hour teaching Kitty how to cast this one, last miracle before we left the island, to a chorus of death, death, death, and when the creature's finally learned the miracle, I set him to rest at the temple - whereupon I lost him again.

Death .... I figured out why all of my villagers were dying, anyway: it's either old age or starvation. The second village we came to is simply not producing enough food to sustain their numbers, apparently.

While waiting for my creature to recover, I discovered that replaying the rock-throwing minigame gives you some more one-shot water miracles. Nevermind that I have a water miracle dispenser. I found some other one-shot miracles due to the fireflies diving under rocks and trees - so far I have three forest miracles, two wood miracles, two fireball miracles, and one lightning miracle.

Time to go.

I have to find my creature again, because apparently he likes to wander - and when I finally do find my creature, he's collapsed from starvation because apparently he hasn't learned how to feed himself yet. Damn carnivore.

I have signed more forms today than I care to count, having gone from thoroughly reading my confidentiality agreement to just sort of skimming the code of conduct - I think I can figure out the bullet points, most of which being "we are an outsourcer, and I do not represent us or our clientele." Incidentally, I do only speak for myself, not for any company I happen to be affiliated with.

Forgive my vagueness, I'd rather not speak directly on this topic.

It's a call center job, with all that is implied. But I feel good about it, already finding myself little reasons to be motivated to come back to work, no matter how difficult it is to rotate my sleep cycle so completely. Less than two weeks ago, I was going to sleep at 8AM after cooking breakfast for Mom. This morning, I woke up, grumbling, at 7:23 AM and cooked breakfast for us both (oatmeal with peanut butter for her, oatmeal studded with raisins, dates, walnuts, and chocolate chips for me).

I am, frankly, exhausted.

Hello, Mountain Dew. I have missed your flavor, but more importantly, the sensation of blood flowing through my caffeine stream was becoming uncomfortably tiresome.

It is just a job, I am reminding myself, but a job of any sort means I can afford to live as a person. I am seeing a single-serving pizza in the vending machine and I find myself almost giddy to think I could buy that for lunch. We may, as I understand it, be paid for a single day's work. That amuses me somehow, given the pay schedule, as seems common, is bi-weekly. It doesn't seem like much, but if I were to be paid my single day's wage on Monday, it would make the next two weeks so much more bearable. I may have misheard or misunderstood, unfortunately, I found myself struggling not to doze off.

The workplace seems oriented towards quiet, professional fun. My last job did little to retain employees. This place is filled with little morale-boosts, so much so that I don't have to seek them out on my own. The people are also friendly and professional, which makes them easier to tolerate. I am told and reassured that I will not have to worry about back-to-back calls. I am not afraid that I will be overwhelmed.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

I had a random urge to do Something Not Warcraft, so I fished through my stack of old games until I hit upon Lionhead's Black and White.Some research on the Internet later, and I have a fully functioning game, since Windows 7 doesn't always play nicely with the older games. I still don't know how to get Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri to work (I hit upon the much easier solution of: when I want to play SMAC, I boot up Mom's old XP machine), for instance - even the newer games sometimes throw a fit.

I forgot how bad the graphics were.

And how long the unskippable tutorial is. Gah.

I think I wanna try and be either a good deity or at least train a good creature. Given my own Chaotic tendencies, I have problems focusing ... I suspect I'll end up failing at least one of these goals.

Here goes nothing ....

9:32 - After some exploring, I have picked out a rather silly-looking kitty cat. Probably not the best choice for a pacifist pet, but I'm not much for cattle or monkeys, and they looked even worse.

9:41 - Maybe I should build this boat so I don't have to listen to the singing. Or kill the would-be sailors ....

10:09 - I actually don't know how much mutton I need for this sheep herder - oh, five. Can't deities keep a quest log? Can I get a bloody hint? GAH!

10:22 - Oo. Huge kitty. I've actually seen him on idle exploration; he's hard to miss. Doing his quest because I suspect he's how I get to teach my Creature miracles. Blah, miracles. Blah, teaching.
Evil (Blackie?) is a coward.
Nemesis is such a ... descriptive ... name.
Yeah.

10:40 - I am going to teach this Creature to make water if it's the last thing I do.

10:46 - Where the hell is my Creature?!

10:59 - Creature kind of knows how to water trees. Teaching him to heal and buff himself. Looking for last singing stone.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Let me first explain why it took me so long to beat the game: I got spoiler'd about halfway through my first playthrough that I would need 9,000,000 gold in order to get the perfect ending, so shortly before I was going to head to Aurora, I stopped actually playing so much as just sitting in town accumulating money.

And that worked well enough, I guess. I did get the perfect ending.

But some of the plot-events, even if you're a good character and working to save everyone are ... touching, we'll go with touching.

Firstly, since I had somewhere toward eleven million gold, it actually made me giggle to kick Reaver in the balls with my enormous personal wealth, every time he proposed something eeeeeeeeeeeeeviiiil and I rejected it out of hand. Well no, I didn't reject it out of hand, I very pointedly waited until he was done speaking, holding down the "A" button all the while because I wasn't even considering evilness. Trampling Reaver's dreams because I just did not need him made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I also get the impression that the Princess/Queen's forays into the Road to Rule are representative of a psychotic break with reality. I say this mostly because of the last one's appearance on your anniversary, when you've got an incredibly boring day set up for your itinerary, when suddenly, you get whisked away to the end of the world. Maybe the whole game is the fantasy of a bored Princess.

Or maybe not, given the last hour or so of the game.

Aurora was ... depressing. Discovering why Walter is scared of the dark, and then seeing him break down because of how he's been blinded - not to mention being forced toabandon him in the desert - was heartbreaking. And finally, whenyou have to kill him.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Okay, so firstly, I discover that everything trainable or even easily purchasable goes green at around 225 cooking skill. Which means that I'm going to have to buy recipes at the far ends of Azeroth, a nuisance in itself given that I've been Horde for this huge old chunk of playtime, and I have no idea how to get from Point A to Point B as Alliance - the problem being exacerbated by the whole problem caused by The Shattering.

Hello, wowhead. So my first excursion into purchasable cooking patterns reveals the other problem caused by The Shattering, which is to say removed NPCs and patterns.

What.
Well, apparently the things that made leveling this skill tolerable from 225-300 were utterly removed with the loss of the one NPC in the game who sells them. Namely, say, Nightfin Soup and Poached Sunscale Salmon.

And the NPC who sells those patterns also sells a few others, and all of them helped to get over a rough, awful patch of cooking levels. Why should these be removed? Because Blizzard saw fit to kill off a few NPCs just to drive home how inconvenient the end of the world is. That's all well and good, but I'm sure the knowledge they alone possessed has been spread about somewhat by the recipes they sold all that time!

So, I went to Tanaris for an NPC who is dead. Well, that's awesome.

This leaves Fishing as my only source of cookable materials - even the Auction House has nothing for me fully half the time.

So I go to learn Fishing, and that's annoying enough.

I discover that those removed patterns are the only use for half of the fish I'm catching. Fully half of them. Then there's the Plated Armorfish, which isn't even useful for obsolete cooking quests: it's an item for a removed Argent Dawn quest. Hooray.

And the one fish I've caught that's still useful for cooking has the lowest drop rate of all the fish in the game, as far as I can tell.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

As you probably know, I'm an avid Roleplayer. It's interactive storytelling, basically, and it's intensely fun - when you do it right.It is incredibly rare for Death Knights (especially level 58 Death Knights) to be doing it right.

I have a theory about that. It goes like this: in lore, Death Knights are incredibly powerful, and this is reflected by the class's starting level and array of skills. They are also the most triumphant anti-heroes of the piece. As a faction, they were more instrumental in defeating the Lich King than either the Horde or the Alliance, second only to the Argent Crusade for sheer, brutal effectiveness. Death Knights are damned - and also damned cool.

This combination of factors attracts young people with God complexes to the class. The high level is a cheat toward perceived power, even in roleplay. It's actually rather telling that even RP guilds often have a minimum level set for DKs well above their level 58 introduction into the wider World of Warcraft. The level also grants them access to a variety of clothing options. The cooler you look, the more powerful you are perceived to be, the theory goes, and since Death Knights are so fascinating and overpowered to begin with, as well as actually looking cool, Death Knight player characters generally end up not being cool after all.

To put it bluntly, ever level 58 DK I have seen roleplaying (with few notable exceptions) have done so poorly, and fall into one of three categories: the Death Knight godmoder, the Death Knight eRPer, and the "not-a-Death Knight" godmoder/eRPer.

And, since the death of the Lich King, Death Knights have stopped being particularly lore-relevant! The only thing we get about Death Knights post-Cataclysm is a little blurb about Thassarian and Koltira in WPL, which tells us that since their grand mission is up, most of them have pretty much just joined whatever faction they started out as ... maybe.

TL;DR: The Death Knight class tends to be just plain bad for RP, and bad roleplayers flock to it.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

So, I think I've figured out why it is that back in the day, Warriors were the only tanks. That reason is rage.

I am right now enjoying my second ragequit ever, and have discovered that there is a hard limit to the number of people that can be vote-kicked from a group, period.

So I mentioned I have a pocket healer now. We've been trying to keep our levels together, and it is difficult, as I want to level while he's roleplaying, or on an alt - and vice-versa.

He's 56, while I just reached 58.

I think if either of us run BRD one more time we'll both go mad, so we agreed to queue for UBRS on a whim.

For nostalgia, he said.

I should note here that I am not a very nostalgic person, and I don't remember UBRS all that well. I was very much a noobish idiot-child back in Vanilla, so it's probable that either I was never allowed to come with, or I just wasn't paying UBRS the attention it deserved but nobody got hurt since I was just healing.

The first thing we see upon zoning in is a Death Knight who made me ashamed of my server.

He died on accident before I had a chance to save him: at level 58, he was wearing cloth, leather, and mail greens.

For those who have not yet experienced Death Knights, the World of Warcraft Hero class, let me explain, with relish. And also ketchup and mustard.

There is literally no reason for a level 58 Death Knight to be wearing sub-par gear.

The gear the class starts with (at level 55) is composed entirely of plate greens. It has reasonably optimal stats, and it is sufficient for a level 55 to get by until 60.

The gear they get on the way to level 58 and joining the rest of the population is blue and can last until level 70: everything, every single piece of gear a Death Knight sees from 58-69 is either a sidegrade or, at best, a very minor upgrade.

IF the unthinkable had happened and this poor sod had been hacked, he's only 58. Rerolling his Death Knight from scratch loses him almost nothing.

So, as soon as possible, we lose the useless DK. While we wait to kick him, one of the other DPS flat-out leaves.We get two more DKs.

And they are both idiots.

Both of them Death Grip off of me, which is actually the least of their sins, although one of the more frustrating to deal with as a tank. One of them apparently has a grudge against the very idea of wearing a helm, so we have to talk him into putting his on. They seem to want to do the [Leeeeeeeeeeeeeroy!]JENKINS achievement, at-level for the instance, judging by the sheer number of eggs that ended up smashed before we ever reached the Father Flame event.

Neither of them are inclined to help me, so much as "wander off doing their own thing, which is, by necessity, in my general proximity."

The healer flat-out refuses to heal either of them, nor resurrect the first one to die (who promptly goes AFK for the rest of the instance). I can't blame him. As a matter of fact I pretty much just encourage his behavior - if there was any way for me to directly kill them, I would have done so myself.

By the third wipe, my pocket healer leaves, and I've /ignored three people before leaving, myself.

Thank you, level 58 Death Knights. You have so enriched my Warcraft experience.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Twenty seconds in queue and a loading screen, then a groan. I'm here again.

Wait for everyone to get quests for a minute before the pull, where I nearly die to green mobs; the healer's DC'd abruptly. At least he comes back this time. It's a close thing.

Someone suggests a full clear, but everyone else just wants to skip straight to the end. Full Clear Guy leaves in a huff. We bicker briefly on whether to kill Bael'gar or the Inquisitor first, and all the new 55s are surprised when it isn't over after just the Inquisitor.

I'm lost again.

I get lost easily. I warn them up front, but they always act surprised that I'm fuzzy on how to get to the relic coffer room alone.

We don't have enough keys, anyway. Full Clear Guy shouldn't have left. We are slowly killing everything, backwards, including bosses even Full Clear Guy would have skipped.

At least it doesn't matter that I'm lost, now. As long as I keep our inexorable wave of death pointed at dwarves who are still alive, no one cares.

Ironically, skipping bosses has left us in a good position. We're killing the dwarves around the Ring of Law, having walked all the way back to the beginning on our circuitous murdering spree. It's still not quite enough, so after the spectators are dead, we jump down into the arena pit that is the Ring of Law proper.

Several bosses later, I've /ignored one of the DPS because he's just told one too many stupid penis jokes. It's a little surprising to note that he's from my server, but I smile a bit when I do it anyway. I've successfully made his queue a little bit longer.

All of the DPS die from standing in the fire on the second-to-last boss, as does the healer, and I'm left to finish the boss solo - which I do, successfully, seconds before keeling over, myself.

I stay dead at the healer's suggestion: he's not only my healer, he's my friend, and he knows I literally could not find my way back this far into the instance unaided. Besides, by the time I kill the boss, he's released and is somewhere near the Domicile as a stealthed kitty cat.

The DPS ignore the healer's suggestion, however, and somehow they end up dead. I hadn't thought we'd left enough dwarves alive to warrant such wholesale slaughter of our own group, but apparently we had. Once again, they release and run back, ignoring the healer who only wants to get this run done, he cries to me in whispers.

Monday, January 3, 2011

She slammed the door to her rented room shut, locking it tight as tears rolled down her face. She was so angry.

A plate had been on her table. It hit the wall, smashed to bits, a bowl and a cup following as a scream of inhuman rage tore her throat. Finally, even the table itself was overturned, rolling through the air to slam hard against a bookshelf.

Hungry for destruction, she ripped the blankets from her bed, claws slashing -

Claws ... slashing ...

Not even human.
She collapsed on the bed, shaking, a howl of grief escaping her that gradually became a wail, until that, too, faded. Deantha sobbed brokenly, fur melting away to reveal soft, human flesh.

Images flashed through her mind. Armod filled most of them. The warrior's calloused hand stroking her lupine muzzle as he softly reassured her that she'd be all right. His own face covered in wooden splinters and gore, foam rolled from his mouth. The sharp pain as his sword snapped her shield arm in a training exercise gone awry.

The confused fear in his eyes as she pried his jaw open. As she reassured him that he would be all right, her hands pouring the faintly-glowing liquid down his throat. As she violated his trust, took his free will away.

It was the only choice she had.

You thought you could trust him, came the insidious thought. Him, a Worgen. You've seen him in a rage, and you thought you could control that? Or did you think frothing at the mouth was normal?

Deantha decided to take her emotion out on her pillow, punching it with all the strength she could muster as she tried to ignore that cold, logical voice.

You thought you could trust him and he hurt you.

You thought you could trust him, and you tempted him, goaded him into losing control. How long has he been infected, even?

So, as I don't have a lot to write about today, here's a couple of things I did back while working at the haunted house. Extreme low-light conditions mean the text is even ... less sane than it could be, but I can still read it pretty much. So, translation follows!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

When you think you're really alone,
Feel the eyes of someone looking in on you~

Some days I feel like I am going insane.

There are spots over my eyes.

Imagine the snow from an old television set at about 10% opacity, overlaying the entire world. I see sparks jumping throughout my field of vision, blue and red lightning, and tiny black singularities, ringed in red. The doctors insist that there is nothing inside my eyes to block my field of vision. I suspect it to be some kind of disturbance. Perhaps all that headbanging as a child knocked a few neurons loose.

Today, these dots coalesce to appear as spiders, slowly sinking from the ceiling. It is unsettling in part because it occurs only in my peripheral vision, and when I look, there is nothing there.

There is also music in my mind, a never-ending murmur of sound. I hear songs as they were first sung to me, capturing tone and pitch more accurately than syllables and words.